CHAPTER FOUR
This soil is terrible! When you first saw it, your stomach twisted. For once, you hate to be right.
Every time it rains, the creek floods your fields. And then it takes forever for the water to drain away. It sits on top of the ground, so that your farm looks like the dirty puddle at the bottom of a ditch.
Splashing through the fields, you kick at your lifeless crops. Your first chance to farm on your own, and you won’t even have enough wheat for one loaf of bread.
It’s not all bad, though. Your English neighbours invite you for tea every week. Their daughter Clara always pours you extra. “Tell me more, Jacob,” she says. “How many bushels of wheat can you lift?”
“Two, easily.” More like one-and-a-half. Close enough. “Over one hundred pounds. Nothing much.”
She has the nicest eyes you’ve ever seen. And she’s set to inherit some good land. You’ve talked about marrying — but her family is very different from yours. They don’t speak German, and none of them like schnitzel!
What do you choose?
